


lay them in the ground

by spaloon



Category: Showdown Bandit (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Graphic Puppet Violence Rated T For Teen, another hip Riley Fic (tm), southern charm puppett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2020-10-29 13:36:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20797475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaloon/pseuds/spaloon
Summary: Kind General store owner Penny Hemsworth has taken quite a shining to the mysterious grave digger named Lorelei. It’s lucky for her, considering her perfect penchant for trouble, that the Undertaker think’s she’s sweet.





	1. down to the styx

You wipe an arm across your brow before digging the shovel into the hardwood floor again. It’s a completely empty gesture, but the world demands a certain measure of  _ acting _ before it offers up what you want. In this case, a hole for a pal of yours. You can hear him rustling about in his little box even now. 

“Now you’d best settle down in there,” you huff, banging it with the flat of your shovel. “This’ll go a lot smoother for the both of us if you stay in the dirt this time.” Some people, you swear. Don’t even have the decency to stay dead. Their momma ought to really have taught them some manners. 

Finally, a hatch slides open, revealing a perfectly coffin shaped hole. You feel a little bit of relief at the sight, happy that despite how strange the stage has gotten that the old rules still apply. But before you can get to lowering your good buddy into the Earth, (for the third time mind you,) you catch a glimpse of a shadow cast in the lights above.

Turning to face the interloper, you hold a hand over your eyes to block the glare. You can’t make much for features, but you’d recognize that bonnet from a mile out. “ _ Penny?  _ That you way out yonder?” 

The kindly general store owner/clerk gives you a wave from the hill before making her approach, careful not to catch her petticoats on the fabricated wooden cacti. You watch her curiously, relaxing the grip on your shovel.  _ What in tarnation was a townie doin’ out this far in the wilderness?  _

“Well, howdy there!” She breathed, a relieved smile in her voice, before her eyes quickly flicked to your work. “Oh, I hope I’m not interruptin’ anything...” 

You cast a glance at the shaking box next to you and give it a swift kick. “Nothin’ too important... Say, you lost, darlin’? Towns way back that way. Wilds ain’t no place for townsfolk, ‘specially not all on their lonesome.” 

She giggles at that. “Well, I’m not alone  _ now _ , am I? You’re right here Mrs Undertaker!” 

You cock an eyebrow at her, tipping up your hat. “Ain’t a Mrs. to it.” 

Penny tilts her head, a surprised look in her dim wooden eyes. “Really? How’s a tall drink of water like yerself not been scooped up?” 

You both cast another glance at the rattling coffin.  _ Asked and answered… _ You dig your shovel into a gap in the floor and lean forward onto it. “So, did ya’ll come all this way to flirt with me or what?” 

“W-What?” You can almost see her rosy red cheeks get a bit brighter. She quickly looks away, tucking a red curl back into her bonnet. “No, hehe, don’t be  _ silly _ ! I uh, I came out here lookin’ for you, it’s true, but... I need some help. Y’see, I’ve got myself a little trouble at the ol’ store, and, well- I came searchin’ for someone who could make it  _ go away.” _

Certainly a strange request. You typically make a living dealing with the people trouble  _ happened _ to, not the troublemakers. Putting a hand on your hip, you look at her under the brim of your hat. “An’ you don’t figure it’s the kind of trouble left to Johnny Law?” 

She shakes her head, waving the suggestion away. “Absolutely not! No, I can’t trust anyone else- no one can hear a peep about it.” 

_ Well, if you weren’t interested before… _ Slowly, you lift the shovel out of the ground and sling it over your shoulder. “Well, do you mind fillin’ me in on the particulars of your problem?” 

Again, Penny shakes her head, yarn curls bouncing around her cheeks. “No, ah, I think it’s better I just show you.” 

You sigh, accepting that you won’t be getting much more out of her at this rate. “Alright, well, I can’t say I ain’t curious.” Dusting off your free hand, you tip your hat back up, looking towards the dusty boxes and abandoned setpieces that made up the wilds. The lights were dim, but you could still see the moths that flickered in and out of the glare. “Let’s head on back, we’ll have to hustle if we want to get back before curtain.” 

There’s a grateful bow of the head before she looks back at the box. “...Ain’t you gonna finish with that?” 

You shrug, nudging it with your boot one more time. “Ah, he ain’t goin’ nowhere. I think the big sleep does wonders to clear your appointments.”

* * *

The walk townward goes relatively uneventful. The chance encounter with the dead after their final curfew coupled with the rare araknit chewing through something it ought not to tended to keep sane folks indoors. A shame, really. Without the care of the townies, this place has been falling apart. Everything was either coated in dust or covered in yarny cobwebs, cast in the flickering spotlights above. 

“Kinda peaceful out here, innit?” 

You snap out of your train of thought and look over at Penny. She followed closely by, head tilted upward. Peaceful isn’t exactly the word you’d use. Maybe  _ unnerving _ would be more apt. 

“Iffin’ you don’t know what’s hiding out here, maybe,” you say. “Folks like you  _ really _ shouldn’t be wanderin’ far from home. ‘Least not ‘till this business of the dearly departed gettin’ tickets for a round trip is dealt with.” 

She brushes the comments off, twirling her hair between her fingers. “Oh, I suppose so. I guess I didn’t reckon too many of ‘em lived- er, or I suppose  _ unlived _ out in these parts. Figured most of ‘em were stuffed in coffins back in the yard...” 

Laughing a little, you look away from her. “You’d be surprised how few of the folks what go missin’ end up in my hands. It’s easy to get yourself done in out here, harder to find where it happened.” 

You must have said something bad, because you see Penny’s posture stiffen. “That’s real sad…” She says. “You’re uh, you’re not much of the reassurin’ type, are ya?” 

You shrug. Talking with the living never really  _ was  _ your forté. The conversation trails off, but fortunately the silence is broken by the bright sign of  _ Penny’s Provisions and General Store.  _ The woman at your side brightens, bringing a hand to your shoulder. 

“Ah, well lookit that! Here already!” You say, eyes scanning the wooden structures and tangles of ropes that held them aloft. It was quiet, save for the sound of Penny’s wooden boots scuffing the stage, but you could tell she was a little on edge. “... And not hide nor string of ornery critter, livin’ or otherwise!” Hands on your hips, you lean your shovel against the porch railing. Penny taps her fingers together nervously, looking past you.

“Uh, actually, you might be needin’ that...” 

Eyebrow raised, you pick it back up. Awfully,  _ awfully _ curious. Quickly Penny takes your arm, pulling you forward and around, instead, to the back of the store. 

“The uh, the problem is right back here,” she explains, “And remember- not a word to no one!” 

Tipping your head, you hold a hand to your heart. “You have my word on my morticians license.” 

There’s a pause as she stops dead in her tracks and looks back at you. “Wait, I thought old Doc Carver handled that kind of stuff?”

“Maybe the powers that be decided that, with the hack job he does with folks strings, payin’ the man to look at folks who’ve  _ lost theirs _ might be a particularly deadly conflict of interest.” 

Penny ponders that for a moment. 

“Ah... we’re gettin’ sidetracked. Though, strangely, that line of thinkin’ is relevant.” She fumbles with a key for a door in the back. Straining slightly, you can hear something groan behind it, before the sound devolves into the sound of jaw-snapping clicks. “Now, uh, if you’d kindly do what you do best.” 

Bowing slightly, she pops open the door, and the world reconfigures to match. Across from you shambles a stringless- the ‘trouble,’ you figure. Only, they aren’t  _ completely _ stringless. The threads aren’t going to the sky, no doubt, but they’re still hanging from their limbs. Fresh enough they haven’t fallen off. Must’ve just recently gotten snipped, poor bastard. You ready your shovel, as Penny watches on nervously. You only have a full minute- minute and a half maybe- before the thing shambles its way over towards you with all the urgency and speed of paint drying.

As the zombified corpse of one of the valleys kindly folk draws closer and closer, you can see Penny starting to squirm. Before she does something rash, you put a hand on her shoulder, throwing a soft look her way. “Steady there, girlie, I’m an old hand at this. You just watch closely, it’s all gonna happen  _ real _ fast.” 

You can feel her relax under your hand, to your own relief. No sense in someone getting hurt on account of just  _ one _ of these irritations. 

It’s almost close enough. Your grip tightens on your trusty instrument.  _ Almost… _

With one more step from the aggressor, you send your shovel swinging, cleaving right into the thick stuff of their skull. The spade is stuck- which is just what you were expecting. The force of the blow travels down through the puppet, causing it to stumble just a bit. Yanking the shovel as hard as you can, you capitalize on the moment to send him falling towards you. You reach out your hand, and their empty eye socket practically gobbles it up on its own. As soon as your fist enters the contents of whatever brain it has left, the thing goes completely limp. 

You let it slide off your arm and clunk against the floor. Penny just blinks at you, and you laugh at the wide eyed expression on her face. 

“See, I told you, I’m an old hand.” A smile in your eyes, you dust yourself off. As if finally processing what had happened, Penny quickly claps her hands together.

“Oh my  _ stars, _ that was incredible! Thank you so much- yer really somethin’ special, Miss Undertaker!” 

You tip your hat at her with a little laugh. “Please, just call me Lorelei.” 

She takes your hand and vigorously shakes it, and the suddenness catches you off guard. “Well thank you so much, Miss Lorelei! I didn’t know what I was gonna do, iffin’ the inspector found out about this-  _ especially _ after that araknit infestation last month, they were gonna shut down my store fer sure!” 

When she lets go of your hand you leave it hanging there for a second too long, mouth hanging like you were prepared to catch flies. “... Well uh, glad I could be of service.” Collecting yourself, you straighten up. “‘Specially if it means not bein’ damned to that tasteless crud they package in a box and call  _ cereal _ . If this place went under, I’d be snippin my strings myself.” 

She laughs at that, which brings another smile to your eyes. 

You scoop up the two-time corpse and sling it over your shoulder. “Anyways, I better be gettin’ this fella in a box afore he wakes up and causes you more trouble. You have a good night now, Penny, and iffin’ any more trouble pops up, I reckon you know where to find me.” Giving her a wink, you make your way to the door and prepare for the rooms to switch once more.

As you carry your load off to share a grave with your old pal out in the wilds, you turn back to see Penny waving her farewells, face practically glowing. It’s strange, really. In your profession, folks aren’t usually _happy_ after you pay them a visit. 

You think you like the feeling.


	2. old scratch

Your spurs jingle and jangle as you walk along these dusty old halls, a perfect accompaniment to the tune you’re whistling. The sound reverberates off of the rotten, wooden walls, filling the empty trails with some much needed music. You don’t know _ what _ Lorelei was in such a tizzy about- you ain’t seen any critters, agitated or otherwise. Just a bunch of dirty shelves and the lights above. A tumbleweed wouldn’t be out of place out here. The atmosphere was calm, almost serene. Almost made you want to just lie back and look up into the great big sky- if looking up wasn’t a guaranteed visit to the Undertaker, under circumstances you’d rather stay clear of. You’re more keen to _ bring _ the old girl a basket than to show up to her doorstep in one.

You pop open a door, and when the world makes sense of itself again you hear a bell chime it's two cents into your little song. Well, the more instruments the merrier! Although, it could be likely it's just Lorelei ringing a cue bell to clear some boards or other such obstacle. Not that that isn’t just as exciting a prospect, since you’ve been walking for lord knows how long looking for her. 

You can see a silhouette in the distance, and the brim of its hat almost has you calling out to the Undertaker you’ve been searching for. The name catches in your throat when you realize that hat doesn't have _ nearly _ enough gallons to be Lorelei’s. Hat aside, you've never seen the old girl not wearing her dress and tie. You’d be willing to wager they were painted on at this point. No, this fella seems to be... well, a _ fella _. And upon closer inspection, you think you can just sus out who it might be. 

Narrowing your eyes, you can very clearly see the ragged silhouette of Showdown Bandit walking- plodding, really- across the dimly lit stage. Ah, and the poor dear must’ve gotten himself into trouble again- his hat was practically in tatters. Some varmint had split it right down the middle, showing off his red locks. You pick up your pace. 

“Well howdy there Bandit! I haven’t seen you in ag-“ 

Before you can finish your sentence, or even get your old pal's attention, a hand darts out of the darkness to pull you in. You want to yelp, but the mysterious stranger who just manhandled you is quicker on the draw and covers your mouth with their other hand. You’re scared stiffer than a 2x4, until she leans down to whisper in your ear. 

“_ That ain’t Bandit. Don’t make a sound _.” Looking down at the worn green hand that covers your mouth, it's easy to put two and two together. 

Well, at least it's not a stranger who’s grabbed you, though you don’t appreciate Lorelei being so rough. In the commotion you dropped your basket out in the hall, just laying there on the dirty floor. And what does she mean 'that ain’t Bandit?' It sure looked like him- _ And what’s that thumping? _ You try to peek out to get a better look, but the Undertaker's gripping you like the grave, so you eventually just stop struggling. 

When the sound gets closer, you start to get a bit worried. What if that wasn’t Bandit after all? And you just left your basket of goodies out there! He might just snatch them, like some kind of no good _ rascal _. 

Slowly, in much the style of every other ne’erdowell south of civilization, the mysterious Bandit-like figure walks in front of the gap in the wall. You can tell, quite easily now, that definitely isn't the little rascal you thought. He’s just a few heads too tall to be the fella you know. He stops in front of the gap, in a way that would have you quaking in your boots if you weren’t being strongly encouraged by your company to keep stiff as a board. There wasn't any way out of this divit save for through him, and you aren’t particularly hopeful that you can get past that big instrument he’s lugging around.The figure begins to look towards you two. 

When the spotlight shines fully onto his face, you aren’t sure whether to be relieved or even more afraid. The man has no eyes, no rosey cheeks, _ nothing _ . Just deep gashes in the rotten wood staring back at you. You hope to those above that meant that he couldn't see you. Trembling, you grip Lorelei’s hand tightly, still clapped over your mouth, as the figure hangs there for _ far _ too long. 

Looking down at your side, you catch the movement of Lorelei’s shovel, as if she’s getting ready for a fight. You reckon you wouldn’t be hiding if she thought she could win- heck, the gash in his hat tells you she might have already tried. The thought alone scares you. The thought that even the Undertaker couldn't stop this thing, whatever he was. 

Finally (and you’re thanking the big man pulling the strings up in the sky for this one, for sure) the devil straightens up, continuing his path down the hall. You don’t know if he knew you were there, but if he did, he let the two of you off the hook. As you hear a door open, you suddenly feel like your vision comes into focus, like the color drained to gray and it’s just now coming back. Now you’re absolutely sure the correct response is a whole heck of a lot of relief, though you find it a bit hard to conjure up, knowing now that something as downright terrifying as that thing is lurking about. You weren’t quite ready for Hallow’s Eve just yet! 

Turning to your savior of the day now that her death grip has gone slack, you’ve got a head full of questions and a mouth to ask them.

“Just what _ was _ that ghoul?” You manage, voice cracking more than you mean it to. “I’ve been around the block, but I ain’t never seen somethin’ like that- down right nearly scared the goodness right outta me!” 

The hero of the hour doesn’t much look like she’s in the mood to be entertaining your questions- the look in her eyes is about as friendly as a nun with a switch and a bone to pick. “Now didn’t I tell you not to come back here all on your lonesome?” She puts a hand on her hip, furrowing her brow. “Honestly, you could’ve gotten yourself kilt, just like that.” 

You cast your eyes down, feeling guilt at the worry that tinged her voice. You don’t recall her ever sounding worried. “Well, shucks... I was just wantin’ to thank you for yer help the other day. I tried to stop by your house first, but the wanderin’ dead kept me at arms length!” 

She shakes her head and heads out back into the hall proper without another word. The shovel in her hand drags behind, glinting in the spotlight. 

“Aw come on now,” you huff, quickly trailing behind her. You have to lift your dress a little to keep from tripping. “Ya’ll didn’t tell me ol’ scratch was back here, I was expectin’ one of them stringless types at worst!” Once you reach the center stage, you scoop up your spilled basket. Some of the perishables went the way of their namesake- smashed under a jar of jam. All of your carefully made goodies gone to waste. The faceless puppet even made a point to step on the wrapped sandwiches. Your eyes droop. It seemed you really made a dog’s dinner of this one. With a sigh, you fix up what you can, hoping there was at least something acceptable left. “I’m mighty sorry Lorelei, it seems I really made a muck of things.” 

She stops, although doesn’t turn to face you quite yet. “You didn’t pack any of those Crumby Crisps in there, did ya?” 

You snort, taking offense to the notion. “No, I reckon I don’t got no reason to try n’ poison you.” 

The Undertaker sighs and comes back around, her look a lot softer now. That kind of look one of your folks gives you when they know you mean well but you’re about as thick as a boulder farm. She gently puts a hand on the basket. “Well, I appreciate it ma’am, even lightly dented.” 

Eyes softening a bit, you look up, no longer focused on the floorboards. “So... does that mean you’ll tell me what that was all about?” 

There’s a glance to the far end of the hall. “We’ll walk n’ talk.”

You watch her intently as she takes a bite of your slightly flattened sandwich, crumbs and bits of meat spilling out the sides of her mouth. If the dusty floor soured it’s taste at all, she’s soldiering through it for your sake. _ How sweet of her! _

“...To tell the truth, I don’t rightly know _ who _ he is,” Lorelei begins, shaking her head. “I was havin’ a chat with the Banker when he just popped up outta nowhere a while back- almost scared the poor man to death! I wasn’t wantin’ to drag him all the way back to town for a box fittin’. Gave the beast a good drubbin’ with the spade here, but didn’t slow him none. All I know is, he ain’t natural, and ya _ can’t _ fight ‘em.” 

Well, now she’s successfully scared you out of ever coming back to this dump ever again. Swallowing, you walk a little faster to match her pace, reaching out to grab the crook of her elbow. There’s a slight jump at your touch, but if it bothered her she didn’t say anything. “That _ does _ sound mighty scary… I’m glad you’re okay! I woulda been torn to bits if ya’ll never came back around!” 

Seemingly embarrassed, she pulls her hat down a bit over her face. “Er, well, I appreciate your concern, Penny. But you don’t gotta worry ‘bout me. I can handle myself.”

You smile up at her- gosh, she’s so tall, you basically have to do _ everything _ up at her. “Oh, I know you’re a toughun’. You just don’t forget to be careful out there too, _ especially _ all on your own.” 

She smiles, ever so slightly, back. “Ah, I ain’t alone. I got my shovel right here. Ol’ Lori Jr.’s seen me through more scrapes then I can count on both hands.” You quizzically raise an eyebrow at her. 

“You named yer shovel Lori Jr.?” 

“Of _ course _ not! Lori’s just short fer Lorelei,” She scoffs.

Your smile turns into the closest thing you can get to a smirk as you bump up against her. Despite how close you got to the chopping block before, you can’t help but feel safe now, with the Undertaker looming over you. Shame she felt the need to hide out in the wilderness like she did. “You sure are an interestin’ lady, Lori.” 

“... Er, thanks, I suppose?”


End file.
